


090 - For the Procrastinators

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “would you be able to throw in a Van helping you with your drama assessment or something ??”





	090 - For the Procrastinators

1:58am

Your phone buzzed and Van's name flashed up on screen. You picked up. "Hey," 

"Babe, where are you? You're not at home?" His voice was happy but concerned.

"What? How do you know that?"

"Because I'm at your door and you ain't answering."

It was almost 2am on a Tuesday morning. You were sitting in the 24/7 computer lab at your university trying to finish an assignment. You knew you should have planned your time better. There were so many moments where you sat on the couch watching television shows you didn't even like instead of writing. So many cups of tea made in procrastination. So many sneaky make out sessions with Van on your bed. Anything to distract you from the work. The work that was due at 9am. Seven hours.

"Why are you there? I'm at uni,"

"Uni? Why the fuck are you there?"

You were sleep deprived and stressed. You felt your nose tingle and your eyes go glassy. You were alone in the dark lab, your face lit by the unnatural screen light. Starting to cry, you explained to him the situation.

"I'm so tired, Van," you finished in a small, sad voice.

"Baby. What can I do?"

Nothing. There was nothing. You told him where the spare key was hidden, so he could get into your place. When you hung up you cried more, then took a deep breath. Back to work.

2.36am

The assignment was for your drama course. You were writing a script. You had managed to write the introduction, providing context for the play. You were on a roll with the didactic meaning, dramatic purpose and theatrical requirements when you heard voices. You saved your work and changed the screen brightness to its lowest setting. You hoped, as whoever was outside walked by, they'd not notice you. You closed your eyes and put your head in your hands and waited for the voices to go.

As they got closer, louder, you sat up straight. No. They came through the door then, Van, followed by Bondy.

"Why's it so fucking dark in here? No wonder you're falling asleep, babe," Van said. Bondy used the torch on his phone to locate the light switch. As the room flooded bright, Van walked to you and pulled you up out of your seat and into a hug. You looked at him and couldn't even form the words to ask him what he was doing. "Alright. So, we've got coffee," he said as Bondy put down a large take away cup at the desk. "And food," Bondy pulled a paper bag out of his pocket. It was a Nutella filled donut from the 24 hour bakery down the road. "And a break from work with entertainment," Van finished. You had noticed that they came in with their guitar cases.

Van moved your chair out into the middle of the walkway and made you sit. He kissed the tip of your nose. He and Bondy tuned their guitars and shrugged at each other when they were close enough. They played you a few stupid songs, and they did it dramatically and ridiculously. You laughed and pulled your knees up onto the chair, hugging them close. When they were done you clapped.

"Alright. I'm out. Hope you get this done, or whatever, Y/N," Bondy said and kissed you on the forehead. He took his guitar and Van's and left the room.

"Why was he still up?" you asked.

"Wasn't. Pulled him out of bed for ya," Van said like it was nothing. "Alright, how much more of this thing you got to go?"

 

3.28am

The coffee and donut helped to wake you up, and Van made you keep the lights on. You said it was safer without them, and he argued he was there to protect you. He'd been lying on the floor at your feet for almost an hour when you could sense him getting restless.

"Van, you really don't have to stay. You've already helped heaps. Go home and warm up my bed for me," you said, looking over the side of your chair at him on the floor. He shook his head.

 

3.51am

"Alright. How do you feel about reading some lines for me? I need to hear them to know if they work," you asked Van. He sat up and nodded. The back of his hair was all flat from where he'd had it on the ground. You were sure he'd fallen asleep briefly. You printed a page of dialogue between two characters and hit record on your phone. When you listened back to it, it worked and you breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I'm quite good. Maybe that could be my backup career. Be on EastEnders, yeah?"

You laughed and leant over to his head for a kiss.

 

4.17am

Your back was killing you. You stood up and stretched. Van was somewhere on the other side of the room, looking at a pinboard of notices. When he saw you standing he came over and wrapped his arms around you.

"How we going?"

"So fucking close."

You stopped telling him to go home ages ago. You knew he'd say no.

Van was in jeans and a hoodie and was warm and soft and cuddly and you wanted to fall into him and never come out again. He put your hands in the pocket on the front of his hoodie. Your head was resting on his shoulder, and you kissed his neck.

"I owe you," you told him. You couldn't see his face, but you knew the smirk that was forming on his lips.

"Owe me what?" he asked. You stood up tall and looked at him.

"I will give you anything you fucking want, Van McCann."

 

4.43am 

You were done. It was done. Van was asleep on the floor, using your bag as a pillow. When the printer came to life he woke up. You held the paper in your hands.

"Want me to read through it?" he asked.

"No. Fuck it," you replied.

"Babe," he said and took it from you, sitting down at your desk. "You already made the mistake of wastin' your time doing other stuff instead of this-"

"By other stuff you mean you. That's what I did instead of this," you said cutting him off. He smiled up at you innocently.

"Yeah, a mistake. Ask anyone. Terrible in bed, I am. Anyway, yeah, don't make the mistake of not editing your work. That's, like, the one thing that stuck in my head from English in high school."

You let him read. He found three typos, and an entire section where you'd not finished a few sentences.

"Fuck," you said when he pointed it out. He looked smug. You fixed the errors, printed again and stapled the paper together.

 

5.01am

Hard copies of assignments were submitted through a chute near the front desk of the Arts building. You could access the room with your student card. As you pushed it through, you felt an overwhelming sense of freedom, followed quickly by extreme hunger and exhaustion. You turned to Van. He opened his arms and you let him hold you. He rocked you back and forth for a bit.

"Home?"

You walked through the city hand in hand. Your feet worked slower than Van's and you followed behind him. He kept looking back at you, checking. As you unlocked the door of your place, you saw the first rays of sunlight seeping through the lounge room window. You collapsed on the bed, and let Van undress you. Under the covers and tangled up naked, you fell asleep. Just before, you tried to make a mental note to never put yourself under that much stress again. You knew you probably would though, and Van would probably show up with Nutella and music and love and fix everything. It was kind just what he did.


End file.
